Fallen by Celeste Bradley Page B

grinning like a bedlamite, boy," the marquess blustered, reddening. "I wish to know why you refused to accompany the Marchwell chit tonight."
    Millie? He was baffled for a moment, then Julian realized his father meant Izzy.
    "Temple, actually. The Honorable Miss Isadora Temple, daughter of Sir Ian Temple and Lady Maria Blakely, and grand-daughter of the late earl of Sessingham." His man-of-affairs had uncovered more of Izzy's history, and he delighted in throwing it in his father's face. "Sorry to disappoint you, but it appears I will not be shackled to a commoner after all."
    "Do not disrespect me, you insolent whelp. I'm only disappointed that you would dishonor such a well-bred young girl in the first place. Then, to leave your betrothed at home while you accompany that hussy with the shameless hair—"
    "Julian, your father disapproves of my coiffure. I think I shall expire on the spot in perfect mortification." Uttering this dry comment from the spot between them where she had suddenly materialized, Izzy held out an elegantly gloved hand to the marquess.
    "My future father-in-law, I presume. Forgive me, I could not wait to be introduced. I have been simply perishing to properly greet you. Have you been quite well? I daresay I feared for your heart on the occasion of our last meeting. One must have a care for one's health, mustn't one?" She smiled indifferently at the marquess, her comments expressed with such a lack of inflection that only Julian was aware of the anger and dislike seedling within her.
    "Ah, Izzy, my dear. You're just in time to waltz with me." Without a word to the gaping marquess, he swept her away to the dance floor. Smiling down at her flushed face, he shook his head admiringly.
    "Izzy, I cannot say I have ever seen anyone deflate my father so thoroughly. Would you consider giving instruction in the skill? Were my mother living, she would surely be first in line."
    Izzy still trembled with the rush of anger she had felt when she had neared the two men and seen the dark flash of pain in Julian's eyes. How could a man treat his own child with such harsh detachment? How could Julian have survived all those years under that man's thumb? She would have gone quite mad.
    Hildegard's treatment of her was less despicable, for Hildegard was not her mother, but a distant cousin. For a parent to feel nothing for his child seemed the lowest rung of the human spirit.
    Izzy thought of her own mother's laughter and her father's teasing voice. Julian resembled him in that way, she thought. They had much the same humor.
    While she herself resembled no one. She had often wished she had her mother's vivacious beauty.
    Lady Maria had once been a court favorite, and had many a beau, despite her father's penniless earldom. Then, Izzy's handsome father had come along and stolen her mother's heart from the first.
    Her parents had not been wealthy, but Izzy had never noticed anything past the great shining love they had for each other and for her. Her surroundings had been happy, if not terribly costly. She had not even been aware of her own lack of beauty, until Hildegard had made it obvious that she considered Izzy plain beyond belief.
    That thought brought her back to the present, and the look on Hildegard's face when Izzy had descended the stair earlier this evening.
    "Julian, do I truly look so different? Even people who have seen me quite recently do not recognize me."
    "It is not so much that you have changed, my dear, it is simply that your presence has become undeniable. Should you crawl back behind that blank shield I have seen you wield, they would no doubt forget to remember you again. Although, I must say, all that hair does wonders for your presence." He grinned teasingly.
    "Oh, stop, you idiot. I do not have presence, with or without hair. Celia has presence, not I."
    "On the contrary. What Celia possesses is beauty, shiploads of it. However, as I recall, she hasn't a speck of presence—other than exquisite